the weight of us
by vodkaquiet
Summary: . drabble collection . john shepard and miranda lawson-their life together and their life apart
1. Chapter 1

She was like glass. Beautiful, when the sun shined she caught the eye of everyone, but also fragile. Her jagged edges cut anyone who got too close. Either way broken pieces always had to be swept up. Miranda watched her sister until the elevator doors closed completely. Oriana was the only family she would ever have. Her father had made sure of that. She smiled gently and kept her eyes hidden from Shepard. There were tears in them. She would miss her sister. She wanted to get to know her, to teach her things, to be her sister as well as her protector. She needed him, she needed Shepard, and that scared her more than anything-the glaring magnificence of Illium that she had always found beautiful and comforting brought her no closer to acceptance.


	2. Chapter 2

John: "Miri?"

Miranda: She shrugged. "My friends," She paused. It was hard thinking of Niket as a friend after he betrayed her, after she killed him, but she swallowed thickly and pressed on. "Sometimes call me that,"

John: "Can I call you that?"

Miranda: "Sure, Shepard," He knew that tone. He loved that tone. That "I have work to do" even when she didn't. "If you want."

John: "I'm asking you," He put his hands on her desk. "Do you think we're friends?"

Miranda: "I don't know about friends, but we're something." She smirked.

John: "I can accept that,"

Miranda: "I'm glad. Is there anything else?"

Shepard shook his head, though he stopped at the door.

John: "I have a first name. Use it."


	3. Chapter 3

John hated to admit it, but she was a better shot than he was.

Miranda: "Here," She steadied his arm.

John: "I got it, I got it,"

Miranda backed up and gave him the space he much as screamed for. She knew her touch was distracting him. That was the point. Mostly.

Miranda: "Uh huh, just take the shot."

Miranda: "Good, but I'm still better."

John: "Did you learn that yourself or are you just drawn that way?"

Miranda: "I love guns, always have. When I was a little girl I would get so mad at my father,"

John: "When you were a little girl?"

Years and years and she was still mad at him, rightfully so, but in his own jabbing way he wanted her to move on.

Miranda: "I would go out and shoot bottles, they weren't always empty-full of thousand dollar wine-it made me feel better. Maybe you're right, maybe he wanted me to be angry, to push me and see what I would do. I know he put aim stabilizers in me and-"

John: "And maybe I'm just jealous,"

Miranda: "You're giving me this one?"

John: "Yup,"

She was quiet again. Her silence had less to do with the words coming out of her mouth and more to do with her eyes. They were unreadable. She looked at the stars which had been home for him his whole life until he met her and thought 'maybe this is it, maybe this is who I've been waiting for'.

Miranda: "Did you know yours? Your parents?"

John: "No. They know I'm alive. I know they care. No."

Miranda: "I won't say I'm sorry,"

John: "I won't either."


	4. Chapter 4

"I do what I have to," John started, almost apologetic. It was a stark change from his usual coldness that burned hot and red and everyone down to ashes. "To get back to you."

Miranda looked past the scars and deep into his blue-grey eyes. In them she could see he was telling the truth, something they both had difficulty doing. His words made her think there could be more to them than countless nights in her bed. Always her bed, never his. Always silk sheets tickling his arms. There were too many phantoms, too many cracked picture frames in his room. She never asked. She knew what it was like to want to get away from yourself and your mistakes. She wished she could, but all her scars were on the inside.


	5. Chapter 5

They were both liars. Both killers. There was the blood of good people on their hands, people they cared about and it was never coming off. They knew the real heroes were dead. The only difference between them was that she kept her promises whereas he never made any.

Miranda never should have asked him to "stay safe". 'I spent two years bringing you back'. There were no second chances now. No time to rest and the way they said each other's name was exhausted and desperate.

Hell they never should have started 'this'. She was smarter than that. Her instincts told her "no", to push everyone away, even Oriana, especially Oriana, and then there was Shepard. He made her accept that she was human. They were both drowning in anger, naivety, and loss, but when darkness was all you saw you just had to close your eyes. She taught him that. John should have known she was just trying to comfort him. She never believed in herself, in anything she said, but she believed in him. She wanted him to keep going when no one else could. He made her stupid. He made her laugh. He would probably get her killed and still she wanted to thank him. With him she had truly lived.


End file.
